my stuff
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a valentine card short of a love hum bug
Valentine's Day. Even as an old married wifey I'm not into it.
If ever there was a day to make people wake up and feel worse about themselves.
Today I got asked what presents (plural) Bandito bought me. I was asked how many (expectation of plural) valentine's cards I'd been sent and if I was being whisked off by Bandito to do anything nice tonight (and by nice, I expect they meant: am I being taken out to a restaurant with a 'valentine theme' - i.e tables squished together, things with the word 'love' in the menu, pink champagne and waiters who are so unbelievably sniffy they could suck up the entire bowl of 'lovers creme delight' soup in one breathe - all for the bargain price of 8 million pounds)and to all of these questions I answered;
Nothing, None, No.
When I realised it was Vally Day at about 11am this morning, I was quite pleased by the fact that me & Bandito had managed to rise above all the commercialist clap trap and not bow down to the hallmarks and clinton cards of this world and said a big resounding 'no thanks' to the day where (if I remember correctly) I was humiliated regularly as a teenager by truly thinking that Mark Ferrier really did fancy me when it actual fact it was my mum sending me the cards…
And after all my pompous nonsense about how we’re GROOVY and everybody else is ridiculous, well. Bandito’s not letting me out of the living room. I am especially banned from the kitchen and the fridge.
Something’s going on.
And I haven’t even bought him a card.
Whoops.
7:11 pm - 14 February 2006
